I got a massage the other day because my right hip was hurting me. I’d gone to the doctor, and he told me that pain was my hip’s way of telling me that something was wrong. “Oh really, that’s how it works?” I asked him. “We communicate through pain?” So I punched him in the face and told him that I wasn’t going to pay the bill. Listen up, medical professionals: Insurance sucks, our bodies are essentially leaky bags of meat, and we’re likely to die of old age in the waiting room. We don’t need to add condescending doctors to the list of shitty things associated with health care. Just tell me that you don’t know what the problem is and give me a prescription for some gnarly painkillers already. Don’t make me go all Drugstore Cowboy on your ass. Continue reading